


Clay Feet

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e18 17 People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-09
Updated: 2002-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A post-episode continuation for17 People





	Clay Feet

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, much as I would like them  
to and no copyright infringement is intended.  
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes and language.  
Archive: Yes, but ask first; it is not formatted for archiving.  
Summary: A post-episode continuation for "17 People".  
Spoilers: "17 People"

Clay Feet

Sam looked at Toby as they rose to leave. The speech was  
done and it was good. They hadn't managed to make Toby laugh,  
but his tired, obviously distracted presence spurred all of them  
to try their best to make him pull out of whatever he was  
thinking about and at least smile.   
"You okay?" Sam asked, as they walked towards their  
offices.   
"Yeah. I'm just tired."  
"You've been going after something for a week." Sam said,  
following Toby into his office. "Is there something going on  
that I should know about?"  
Toby paused for a fraction of a second. Yes, there was  
something going on that Sam should know about. There was  
something going on that the entire nation should know - should  
have known - about.  
"Go home, Sam." He said abruptly.

Sam went into his office and took his time in getting ready  
to go. He glanced into the window from his office into Toby's,  
waiting for the thump of a ball against the baseboards. That had  
gone on for most of the last week.   
The sound never came. Sam positioned himself so he could  
see Toby's desk. Toby himself was sitting behind it, and he had  
a bottle of Scotch and a glass beside him. Sam frowned. He  
didn't know Toby had liquor in his desk.   
He watched Toby pour two fingers of the Scotch in a glass  
and light a cigar. Sam blinked in surprise. Toby never smoked  
in his office. Smoking was not permitted in the White House.   
Everybody turned a blind eye to Toby smoking one cigar during  
celebrations, but he normally went outside to smoke.   
What the hell was that endless meeting all about? Toby had  
said he'd be a few minutes, but those few minutes had stretched  
into an hour and a half. Toby had come into the brainstorming  
session looking very upset. It wasn't his usual rampaging about  
injustice or stupidity; it was a deeper, darker feeling. Sam had  
never seen Toby look like that.  
Toby had hidden it fairly well, but Sam knew immediately  
that the meeting had shaken his boss to the core.   
Had Toby been called on the carpet for something? Sam ran  
through the events of the last week and nothing came to mind. Or  
had something happened during the meeting to cause this?  
Had Toby yelled at the President again? The President often  
referred to his meetings with Toby as his 'ten AM scolding', but  
there was a bitter twist to the joke. Even Leo did not talk to  
the President the way Toby did. Toby was always perfectly  
respectful and followed protocol, but he never pulled his verbal  
punches with anyone. Not even the President of the United  
States.  
Good God, had Toby been mouthing off and gotten fired? Sam  
felt a rush of anger. There were times when he felt that Toby  
had gone too far with his objections, but there was always an  
unpalatable truth to his arguments. The President valued the  
fact that Toby was willing to say the things that the others were  
too deferential to say. Or so Sam thought.  
One of the things that made Bartlet so beloved was his  
willingness to hear what his staff thought. The freedom in this  
administration was exhilarating at times; being able to  
contribute to the conversation without worrying about being  
frozen out was one of the most cherished aspects of Sam's job.   
Even Toby listened, if only to be able to retort back with some  
pithy put down.  
Sam knew that Leo was still in the building. With fire in  
his eyes for the injustice of it all, he went in search of the  
Chief of Staff.

Toby sat at his desk, one hand absently stroking his beard.   
He felt betrayed. Despite the President's assumption, he wasn't  
upset that sixteen people knew this before he did. He was more  
concerned about the identities of the players in this conspiracy  
of silence.   
In one sense, the betrayal wasn't personal. He didn't give  
a damn that he wasn't part of the cover-up. It was the fact that  
there was a cover-up at all.   
In another sense, it was intensely personal. He had come to  
believe in Bartlet, to believe in the inherent goodness of the  
man, to believe that the man in the Oval Office could make his  
country a better place. He knew Bartlet's faults and weaknesses.   
He knew Bartlet relied a little too much on Leo McGarry, but he  
had never before questioned who actually ran the White House.   
Leo was a good man, a smart man, a man to rely on. But he  
was not the person who should be running things, anymore than  
Toby himself was. Leo was the eminence grise of the Democratic  
Party, the one who wielded power in the shadows. It was a kick  
in the teeth to know just how much power Leo had. And it was  
wrong for him to have that much power. It was obscene that the  
President allowed him that much power.  
It was especially obscene, since Leo had taken on that power  
for all the right reasons. Friendship, loyalty, patriotism and  
fidelity. He didn't doubt Leo's commitment to the greater good,  
and that frightened him. It was easy, far too easy, to slide  
down that slippery slope to corruption.  
Leo wasn't corrupt in the sense many of the men in  
Washington were; he was corrupted by his principles, by his love  
for Bartlet, by his childish and naive belief that this was not a  
serious breach of trust of the American people, of the  
constitution and of everything America stood for.  
Toby took another drink and smiled dourly at the thought.   
He had been pissed as hell at CJ for taking him to task after the  
shooting. He had been so focussed on putting the boots to hate  
groups that he had nearly fallen down that slippery slope  
himself. His own motives were as pure as Leo's. Racial hatred  
was something he had personally experienced, and all he wanted  
was to make sure no other kid would have his ass kicked at recess  
for being different. That no other young man would get shot at  
simply for being a darker colour. That no other respectable man  
would be pulled over for driving while Hispanic.   
Yet he had been wrong. He had very nearly betrayed  
everything he believed in. CJ had pulled him back from that. CJ  
and the President; two people he would listen to.  
Had the President listened? Had he truly heard what Toby  
had tried to say? Had Leo?  


Sam found Leo just outside the Oval Office. By the time he  
saw Leo, he was in a state of full fledged righteous indignation  
and bore down on Leo like an avenging angel.  
"Leo, what was that meeting all about?"  
"Sam? What are you doing still here? It's two in the  
morning."  
"What did you say to Toby to upset him so much?" Sam  
demanded. Leo didn't answer, so Sam continued. "Toby's in his  
office, drinking and looking like he'd just been kicked in the  
balls. Did you fire him?"  
"What?"  
"Did you fire him? Did he say something you didn't want to  
hear?"  
"The meeting was... intense." Leo allowed, fumbling for  
something to say to Sam. "Toby was not fired, Sam. He'll be  
here tomorrow."  
"Will he?" Both men jumped a little at the quiet comment  
behind them. Bartlet, in shirtsleeves and with a drink in his  
hand, beckoned to Sam. "Come in, Sam. I've got something to say  
to you."  
"Sir..." Leo shot a frown at the President.   
"No, Leo. It's time." Bartlet looked very serious.   
"Are you sure you want to do this now?"  
"It can't be any worse than the last two hours." Bartlet  
said cryptically. "Sam, get your butt in here. Leo, go find out  
if we still have a Communications Director."  
"I'm not sure it's a good time for me to approach Toby..."  
"I'm not sure it's ever going to be a good time to approach  
Toby, Leo." Bartlet shook his head. "Try anyway."  
"Yes, Sir." Leo gave one nod and Sam followed the President  
into the Oval Office, very puzzled.

"Sam, I told Toby something tonight and he didn't take it  
well." Bartlet said, sitting down and motioning Sam to a seat.   
"I don't know if you're going to take it any better, but it's  
something you have to know."  
"Sir?" Now Sam was thoroughly baffled and his heart was  
sinking.  
"Before I say anything, I want you to promise me that you'll  
keep quiet about it until Leo or I say otherwise. You can talk  
to Toby about it, but I would suggest you don't for your own  
safety."  
"Sir?"  
"Sam, I have Multiple Sclerosis." Bartlet said bluntly. He  
was too tired and heartsick to ease carefully into it.  
"MS? God." Sam looked stricken. "Sir, are you all right?   
Are you...?"  
"It's relapsing remitting." Bartlet said in a reassuring  
tone. "It's currently in remission and I haven't had an episode  
for over a year."  
"That's good." Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Still...  
It's not an easy thing to live with. Is there anything we can do  
to help?"  
"No." Bartlet shook his head, trying to quell a bizarre  
impulse to shake Sam. Funny, when Toby had not expressed any  
sympathy, he was angry, but now Sam had done so, he wanted to  
slap him silly. Didn't Sam see what had immediately occurred to  
Toby? "I was diagnosed eight years ago and very few people know  
about it. Toby was the seventeenth person to know when I told  
him tonight."  
"I can see why it would be upsetting, but surely this is a  
private matter." Sam said, with a frown.  
"Toby was concerned about the political ramifications."   
Bartlet replied. Then he watched the expressions run across  
Sam's face as he thought about it. It took him a little while to   
work out what Toby had grasped instantly.  
"Oh." Sam said finally.  
"Yeah."  


Leo pause outside Toby's office, making sure that he  
couldn't be seen. Toby was sitting in his desk chair, looking  
off into space, taking a small sip from the glass in his hand.  
Leo's hands curled into fists. God, how he wanted to snatch  
that glass out of Toby's hand, resenting the fact that the  
younger man could drink and he couldn't. Before he could  
suppress the rush of irrational anger, he strode into the office.   
Toby didn't look at him.  
"Is that how you're dealing with this?" He asked harshly.  
"Go to hell, Leo." Toby replied, finishing the last little  
bit.  
"Sitting in your office getting drunk isn't the way to deal  
with this."  
"Neither is sitting with your head in the sand hoping for  
the best." Toby retorted. "Leo, how in God's name can you be  
that naive?"  
"Naive?"  
"You said that we could control this. We can't." Toby said  
flatly. "If I can figure out what the hell Hoynes was doing, so  
can the press."  
"The press won't find the MS."  
"Yes, they will."  
"How? You gonna go on a crusade of truth and openness and  
tell them?"  
"Hoynes will."  
"Like hell. He won't say anything if he wants the  
Presidency."  
"Sure he will. The press are going to start asking why he's  
running for the nomination..."  
"They aren't going to get that." Leo broke in.  
"Grow up, Leo." Toby shouted. "You're too damned busy  
looking for the best that you can't see the writing on the wall.   
Danny Concannon knows political manouvering almost as well as I  
do. And even if the press doesn't, what about the party? Hoynes  
is running for the nomination. You don't think the party is  
going to ask why he thinks Bartlet won't run?"  
"The President announces his nomination and Hoynes backs  
off."  
"How much does that cost?"  
"What?"  
"Hoynes backs off and has to wait another four years. Do  
you really think he's going to meekly sit by for four years while  
he has a hand grenade in his pocket?"  
"Yes."  
"What do you have on him?"  
"Toby... Hoynes is not going to say anything. He opens his  
mouth, he's out."  
"Have you polled the DNC to make sure the party will line up  
with Bartlet?" Toby countered. "Of course not. And then there  
is the little matter of the ninety minute coup."  
"There was no coup. The President was in no danger."  
"The country was, and it wasn't the elected official who was  
calling the shots. It was you."  
"There was no coup. No taking over, no force."  
"There doesn't have to be. Bartlet gave the government to  
you, didn't he?" Toby pressed on, relentless. "Hoynes allowed  
it because he was afraid of screwing it up."  
"Your point?" Leo snapped, annoyed.  
"My point is, you're not the President of the United States.   
Josiah Bartlet is. To maintain the fiction that he's perfectly  
fine is a threat to democracy."  
"Bullshit, Toby. The President has MS."  
"Which can affect cognitive function."   
"Other Presidents have had concealed health problems.   
Wilson's stroke was far more serious than this."  
"Precedent doesn't make it right, Leo." Toby returned. "If  
it was polio, like FDR, fine. If it was something that had no  
effect on the mind, I might risk keeping it secret. Not this.   
And I don't think it can be kept secret much longer."  
"Because of Hoynes."  
"Yes. You both said that nobody lied. Maybe that's so, but  
the lies are going to start as soon as the party starts asking  
questions."  
"So what do you suggest?" Leo asked sarcastically.   
"I don't know." Toby sighed and poured himself another  
drink. "Full disclosure means hearings for the rest of the  
term."  
"Does it?"  
"We stopped the hearings about your past. We can't stop  
this short of handing over the store. The most we can hope for  
is to make the opposition look petty."  
"And non disclosure?"  
"Besides being a betrayal of the electorate who have a right  
to know? Fear of disclosure. Expansion of the number of people  
who know. Some guarantees of following due process in the event  
of a health crisis."   
"What kind of guarantees? The letter?"  
"Something like that. Give it to someone who can be trusted  
with it and leave off the date until needed."  
"Would that satisfy you?"  
"No."  
"What would?"  
"I don't know."   
"Where do we go from here?"  
"You know as well as I do. Tell the rest of the senior  
staff. Bring in legal council. Look into the possible scenarios  
and be ready to deal with it. Get DNC support nailed down."  
"Ditch Hoynes."  
"No. He has to be on the ticket. Find his price for  
silence and support when it does come out." Toby replied. "You  
know all of this as well or better than I do. You have to stop  
thinking like Jed Bartlet's friend."  
"He needs friends. And may I say you were somewhat less  
than supportive in there."  
"You didn't hire me to be the President's friend." Toby  
said tiredly. "It wasn't my place."  
"He would have appreciated some gesture of concern, you cold  
hearted bastard."  
"He was trying to change to subject. To make me the bad  
guy." Toby said in a tight voice. "I'm willing to play that  
role if I have to, but not for nothing."  
"You're not making sense."  
"Did you hear anything I said in there, Leo?" Toby sat  
straight and, for the first time in the conversation, looked Leo  
in the eye. "Did you really hear it?"  
"Yes, yes, I did." Leo couldn't keep eye contact. He turned  
away. "I was wrong."  
Toby said nothing, just took another small sip of his drink.  
"Until you said it, it never crossed my mind what was going  
on. I was trying to protect my friend - and my President - in  
the only way I knew how. You were right on target, Toby."  
"I know."  
"I can't make plans and decisions tonight." Leo said,  
rubbing his face with his hands. "Can you?"  
"I can't stop spinning the scenarios, Leo." Toby replied.   
"It's all there, all the possibilities. I don't know what to do  
with them."  
"The President wants to know something."  
"What?"  
"Will you be here tomorrow?" This time Leo could meet  
Toby's eyes and he knew that Toby understood the question.  
"I don't know."  
"I know this goes deep with you..."  
"Right to the foundation." Toby agreed.  
"...But I want to know if you aren't coming back.   
Personally, not in the Post."  
"I signed a confidentiality agreement." Toby replied  
softly. "I keep my word."  
"Go home, Toby. Go home, get drunk, got laid... whatever  
gets you through the night." Leo ordered, with a sigh. "Take  
tomorrow off if you have to. I'll call if anything comes up."  


Sam sat silently for a long time, staring at the  
Presidential Seal in the carpet.   
"Sir..." He ventured quietly. "I don't know which is the  
way to go, but I want you to know that I support you. I serve at  
the pleasure of the President."  
"Thank you, Sam."  
"I'm sure that between Leo and Toby, we can work out a way  
to deal with this." Sam added earnestly. "I'll help in any way  
I can."  
Bartlet bit his lip. Sam's trust in him was not broken, not  
the way Toby's was. He really did believe that this was another  
problem to be solved; for Sam this was not a crisis of faith. He  
had faith, a faith that was perhaps misplaced in this instance.   
"Go home, Sam." Bartlet said, tired. Sam obeyed.   
"Sir... I hope this... doesn't bring on an episode or  
anything."  
"Thank you, Sam." Bartlett watched to door close behind  
Sam and sighed.

Toby wanted to take Leo at his word. Sitting in his office  
wasn't helping at all, but he didn't think going home was going  
to help any, either. He would just spin scenarios, each more  
disastrous than the last. He could not hold onto the edge of  
righteous anger, but he couldn't let it go, either. He did not  
want to even look at the pain he felt. He suspected that part of  
that feeling of betrayal was directed at himself, for not  
supporting his President - his friend - at a time of great need.   
The politics had to be considered. That was what he did;  
consider the political ramifications. He was paid to do that.   
So why did it feel as if he had let the President down?  
He wished it wasn't so late. The bars were all closed now,  
so he couldn't slip into an anonymous dive and drink his thoughts  
away. Nor could he find some willing woman to hold; all the  
women he would even consider bedding meant too much to him to use  
for forgetfulness. Not even.... No.  
He got up and started to pack up some files. Then he left  
them where they were; Ginger would tidy them up in the morning.   
He could just leave it all there and worry about it later.   
The laptop had to go with him; there were too many notes on  
it for him to want it just lying around, even if no one else knew  
the password for his private files. He put the computer in the  
case and slung it over his shoulder. As an after thought, he  
capped the bottle of Scotch and put it into the outside pocket of  
the case. Hitting the lights on the way out and closing the door  
and locking it, he left.

Sam saw Toby leave and shouted for him to wait up. Toby  
ignored him. Sam went to go after him, only to be stopped by the  
sudden appearance of Leo, who caught his arm.  
"Let him go, Sam." Leo ordered softly.   
"I need to talk to him." Sam said, looking after the  
retreating figure. "We need to plan, to strategize..."  
"Not right now."  
"But..."  
"If you need to talk, come into my office. We can talk."   
Leo said soothingly.

Toby sat in his parked car, drinking the Scotch, wondering  
what the hell he was doing. Drinking out of an open bottle in  
his car in front of CJ's building wasn't the smartest thing he'd  
ever done.   
He looked in vain for a light, for any indication that she  
was still up. Not likely at two thirty in the morning. He may  
as well give up and go home.   
It was half an hour later and most of the way through the  
bottle before he decided what to do. He needed to see CJ. She  
had been his friend through good times and bad and he badly  
needed a friend right now.   
"Who the hell is here at three in the morning?" CJ shouted  
through the closed door, after he pounded on it. She opened the  
door, her hair askew and wrapping a fluffy robe around her.   
"Jesus. Toby, what are you doing here at this hour?"  
"I... needed to see you." He said, feeling idiotic.  
"You'll see me in another four hours anyway." She snapped.   
"Get in here before my neighbours call the cops."  
He followed her in and dropped onto her couch. She turned  
on the lamp and sat down on the nearest chair, yawning.  
"Okay, what was so goddam important that you show up here in  
the middle of the night?" She asked, then paused when she looked  
him full on. "Toby?"  
"I just needed... a friend." He said awkwardly.  
"What happened?" CJ asked softly. "You need to talk?"  
"I can't talk about this." He shook his head and stared at  
the floor. "Look, I... I'm sorry, CJ. I'll go."  
"Like hell you will. You're tired, upset and, unless I miss  
my guess, more than half drunk. I'm not letting you drive like  
that."  
"I'll be okay."  
"You are in no condition to get behind the wheel." CJ said  
firmly. "I don't need to get up in front of the press corps and  
try to explain away a drunk driving arrest of the White House  
senior staff. And I sure as hell am not going to announce that  
you wrapped your car around a telephone pole and killed yourself  
because I let you drive like that. You're staying here."  
"Thank you." Toby's voice, always quiet, was nearly  
inaudible.  
"Let me get us some coffee and we can talk, okay?" CJ rose  
and went into the kitchen. She was a little ruffled at being  
roused out of bed at this hour, but Toby looked awful. He was a  
friend; she was not going to turn a friend away, no matter what  
it cost her in sleep.  
When the coffee was ready, she found Toby still sitting on  
the couch, still in jacket and tie. She set the mugs on the  
coffee table and sat down, reaching over to undo his tie and take  
it off. He allowed her to do it without resistance. Then she  
got him to take off his jacket.  
"Now. What happened?"  
"I can't tell you." Toby said quietly, his head in his  
hands.   
"Toby..."  
"No, I really cannot tell you." He reiterated. "If I  
could, I would."  
"But something happened."  
"Yes."  
"And you can't tell me what."   
"No."  
"Then why are you here?"  
"I just... I couldn't face going home. I didn't want to be  
alone right now."  
"Need a hug?" CJ offered. Toby nodded and they both stood  
up. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed gently. He  
held on with tenacious strength.

CJ lay awake later, absently twirling her fingers in the  
curls at the back of Toby's neck. They had done this before, a  
few times. It was more than sex, but it was not exactly  
lovemaking. It was an affirmation that they were not alone in  
the world; that there was something beyond the myopia of pain and  
bewilderment. Sometimes it had been her, needing to be desired;  
sometimes it had been him, needing to be held. It was not  
something that ever made it to the light of day and it never  
affected their deep friendship.   
There was no point in trying to sleep now. She had to be up  
in an hour and half anyway. She was a little sore to sleep  
easily; he had taken a very long time to reach completion. He  
hadn't exactly hurt her; the slight physical discomfort was  
nothing compared to the wrench in her heart when he wept in her  
arms afterward. His tears were always shed in darkness and only  
when the pain inside became too much to bear. She soothed and  
comforted as best she could, as much as he would allow, but she  
could not offer more without knowing why he needed her.   
She wondered what had happened to hurt him so badly. He was  
asleep now; a troubled, restless sleep. When it was time for her  
to leave, she would let him sleep. To hell with the job. For  
once, the White House could wait for him.

"Leo, got a minute?" She asked, a few minutes before her  
first briefing.  
"Sure. What's on your mind?" Leo replied. CJ paused for a  
moment. God, Leo looked tired.   
"Any idea what happened last night to Toby?"  
"Why do you ask?" Leo carefully put down the file he was  
reading.   
"He showed up at my place in the middle of the night." She  
said. "He was really upset. Did something happen during the  
speech rewrite?"  
"No, it's fine." Leo said, with a fine attempt at  
indifference. "He was upset over something else."  
"What?"  
"You know how Toby gets." Leo said vaguely. "Aren't you  
supposed to be at the morning briefing?"  
"Right." CJ frowned. She narrowed her eyes. Something had  
happened and it had to do with work. Leo looked as if he'd been  
put through a wringer. There was something going on and she was  
being left out of the loop. Again.   
"CJ..." Leo was almost pleading. "Look. See me later  
today. I'll explain as much as I can, okay?"

After the briefing, she got so caught up in work that she  
didn't have time to breathe, far less confront Leo, until  
lunchtime. She decided to eat first and confront later. She was  
always much sharper with her blood sugar up.  
She returned to her office after a quick trip down to the  
mess for a salad. On her desk was a bouquet of spring flowers.  
"They arrived a few minutes ago." Carol told her. "I put  
them in water for you."  
"Thank you. Who are they from?"  
"I don't know. There's a card."   
CJ took the card and opened it. It read: "About last night  
\- Thanks." There was no signature.   
CJ smiled and inhaled the fragrance of the flowers. Toby  
really could be very sweet sometimes. And the flowers meant he  
was up and about and at least semi-functional. She made a mental  
note to call him.  
"Hey, CJ." Josh strolled into her office. "Nice flowers.   
Who sent them?" Without waiting for an answer, he plucked the  
card from her fingers and read it. "Ohhh. Claudia Jean, I am  
shocked."  
"No, you're not." CJ retorted mildly, taking a bite of  
salad.   
"Well, no, I'm not." Josh agreed. "So who's the lucky  
guy?"  
"If I wanted you to know, I would have said something at the  
briefing." CJ replied, composedly.  
"You don't need to announce it to the world." Josh returned.   
"Just to me."  
"Same thing." CJ shrugged.  
"Where's Toby this morning anyway?" Josh wondered. "He  
looked like shit last night after he met with the President, but  
he wasn't here much later than I was."  
"He met with the President last night?"  
"Yeah. For well over an hour. We could have used more of  
his input on the speech." Josh replied, offhandedly. "Okay, CJ,  
what's the matter? You've got your sourpuss face on."  
"What's going on, Joshua?" CJ's voice was low, dangerous.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean, what do you guys know that I don't?"  
"I'm still not tracking..."  
"Okay. Let me put this in small words. I went home at six  
last night. You and Sam and Larry and Ed..."  
"And Ainsley." Josh added.   
"Were working on a speech. Toby and Leo were here, too." CJ  
continued. "Toby met with the President..."  
"I think Leo was there." Josh added.  
"And with Leo. He's in there for more than an hour and  
comes out looking like hell. What was the meeting about?"  
"I dunno."  
"Josh."  
"No, really, CJ. I don't know. I figure Leo'll tell me  
soon enough." Josh protested. "Secrets don't stay secrets very  
long around here and I have enough on my plate to worry about not  
being the first one told about something. It was probably  
something that Toby knows about and they wanted his input before  
presenting it to the rest of us."  
"So you don't know what they talked about."  
"No." Josh repeated. "I was busy with the speech last  
night, CJ. We finished and I went home."  
"What time?"  
"What, I have a curfew now? About one thirty."   
"Was Toby still here?"  
"Um. Yeah. He and Leo and Sam were still here when I left.   
Ainsley left when I did and Donna left a little bit before that."  
"I wonder if Sam knows." CJ mused.  
"Based on how wiped he looked when he came in, I doubt Sam  
knows his own name." Josh said casually. "Leo told him to go  
home."  
"So who's running Communications today?"  
"You are." Josh replied, with his most annoyingly smug  
grin.

"CJ? Josh? Would you come with me, please?" Leo said, as  
Josh went to leave her office. "The President would like to have  
a word with you both."  
"Hey, Leo. Why the formal summons? I didn't set the place  
on fire last night." Josh said, teasingly. Leo just looked at  
him. "Is it just me, or am I the only one not in a really crappy  
mood this morning?"  
"Settle down, Josh. This is serious." Leo ordered.  
"Leo, does this have anything to do with what you and the  
President and Toby talked about last night?"  
"Yes, it does."

If CJ thought that Leo looked tired, it was nothing  
compared to the way the President looked. He looked almost as  
bad as Toby had, last night on her doorstep.  
"Come on in." The President invited. "Sit down, please."  
CJ and Josh glanced at each other and sat down on the sofa,  
almost exactly where Toby had sat last night.  
"I want to tell you something that I told Toby and Sam last  
night." Bartlet began.   
"We told them first because Toby had some questions that  
needed answers. After he was told, Sam was concerned and asked."   
Leo added.   
"What is it?" Josh asked, leaning forward.  
Bartlet told them, fully and completely, about the MS and  
the cover-up. He did not mention the points Toby had brought up.  
Neither one of them said anything, although their reactions were  
clear from the expressions that flitted across their faces.  
"Okay, okay." Josh ran his hand through his hair as he  
thought. "Before anyone else knows, we need to bring in legal  
counsel. Not Ainsley, she's too new. Not Tribbey, either. It  
can't be the chief counsel. And we need the medical records.   
All of them. And a specialist in MS to give us a report on  
expected progression of the disease."   
"Slow down, Josh." Leo ordered.   
"Leo, this is going to break eventually. Whether it's  
tomorrow or two years from now, it's going to break. We need to  
be prepared with facts." Josh replied. "And we need Toby."  
"I'm not sure..." CJ said quietly.  
"CJ?" Bartlet encouraged.   
"Sir, how upset was Toby about this?"   
"He didn't take it well." Leo allowed.  
"We also need to let everyone in the know about what  
triggers episodes." Josh continued, heedless of the others. "We  
need to do what we can to keep you healthy and fit, Sir."  
"Thank you, Josh." Bartlet said dryly. "Josh, we need to  
keep this under wraps..."  
"I'll say." Josh muttered.  
"...For a while. Until we know where we stand with  
everyone." Bartlet finished. "Think about it."  
"Sir..." CJ spoke up. "I'm sorry to hear about this. I  
hope you stay in remission for a long, long time."  
"Thank you, CJ."  


"Leo, may I talk to you for a moment?" CJ murmured to Leo  
as they left the Oval Office.  
"Okay." Leo nodded, although he heard the brittle note in  
her voice.  
"Okay, Leo, do you have any idea what you've done?" She bit  
out as soon as they were alone in his office.   
"Yeah." Leo faced her unflinchingly. "Toby was pretty  
thorough about it last night."  
"You betrayed him. You betrayed us. Hell, you may even  
have betrayed the whole country." CJ said fiercely. "How could  
you not tell us? How in hell can we do our jobs when the whole  
thing could fall apart in a heartbeat? We need to be prepared  
for every eventuality, Leo."  
"Yes, I know. But it wasn't my decision to make." Leo  
retorted. "I only found out myself a year ago and I've known Jed  
Bartlet for forty years. Don't hop on the indignation bandwagon  
too quickly."   
"Is that what Toby did?" CJ demanded. "Did he let you have  
it with both barrels and now you're feeling defensive? Well,  
dammit, you should be. I can excuse the President. He's living  
with his disease and I can understand why he doesn't want  
everyone hovering around him all the time, wondering if every  
little tremor or forgotten item is a symptom. But he listens to  
you, Leo. You could have convinced him to let some people know.   
For God's sake, Leo, the President trusts you with everything.   
Why can't you trust us?"  
Leo flinched. Yes, Jed did trust him. Trusted him enough  
to let him take over in a crisis, trusted him to deal with it,  
and he had, superbly. It hurt to hear CJ unconsciously confirm  
Toby's accusations.   
"It wasn't mine to tell, CJ." He said quietly. "And before  
you yell at me some more, I reiterate that I heard all of this  
last night from Toby. I'm not sure I'm in any shape to deal with  
it right now."  
"Okay." CJ blew out a breath. "I knew there was something  
big going on when Toby showed up at my place last night."  
"He did?"  
"He was drunk and upset and he needed a friend."  
"But he didn't tell you."  
"No. He wouldn't betray you or the President that way." CJ  
shook her head. "This really hurt him, Leo."  
"I know." Leo sighed. "I'm not sure why, but it did."  
"Toby is a funny mixture of contradictions." CJ said  
softly. "He's pragmatic and practical and he's worked in  
politics all his life. Yet he's never stopped believing in  
honest or integrity. He's an idealist and a capital "r" Romantic.   
He lost his rose coloured glasses years ago, but he still  
believes."  
"He did believe."  
"He'll come round, Leo. It just hurts to have your idols  
fall off their pedestal."  
"Toby put the President on a pedestal?"  
"You bet." CJ smiled sadly. "He worked hard not to, so it  
hurts to find out he did anyway."

"We can't do this without Toby." Josh nibbled on a  
fingernail. He and CJ were in her office, putting out ideas for  
how to reveal the news.   
"Sam's a good writer, Josh."  
"Yeah, but that's not what we need Toby for." Josh said,  
seriously. "We need him to talk to the party. Toby's reputation  
is gonna count for a whole lot in this."  
"His reputation?"  
"CJ, when Toby says something is right, people tend to  
believe him. They know he can't be bought or bamboozled easily.   
Sure, he gets caught up in things sometimes, but if he says he  
supports Bartlet it'll swing a lot of the backroom boys to our  
favour."  
"What happens if Toby won't do it?"  
"It's going to be a hell of a lot harder to get DNC  
backing." Josh fretted. "He'll do it, CJ. He has to."

Toby sat at his kitchen table, with the open laptop in front  
of him. He stared at the screen without knowing quite what to  
write. Writing out his ideas had always given him clarity and he  
badly needed that now. With a sigh, he put his fingers on the  
keyboard and started to type.  
He typed for nearly an hour, finally finding his voice. He  
stopped only when the coffee he had drunk to chase away the  
lingering effects of last night's Scotch forced him to go to the  
bathroom.   
When he returned, several paragraphs caught his eye; ones he  
did not remember writing.  
"... President Bartlet is an inspiration. Not only has he  
upheld the ideals and principles upon which our country was born,  
but he's done so with grace and aplomb. Recently, it was  
revealed that he is also an inspiration to those who suffer from  
chronic illnesses, in proving that an illness need not bar anyone  
from participating in even the highest levels of public service.   
"Although his concealment of his illness may seem to be at  
odds with our need for sound and reasonable decision making, it  
can also be seen as a valiant struggle with between the public  
and the private man. Josiah Bartlet is not just the President of  
the United States. He is a loyal husband, a loving father and a  
faithful friend. He is also a citizen of the United States and  
fully entitled to the same right to privacy as any other citizen.   
His illness, while serious, has not affected his ability to  
govern and, should it ever do so, there are proper precautions in  
place to ensure a smooth and fair transfer of power. Surely we  
can trust our system to protect us well enough to allow us to  
protect and preserve his privacy..."  


Toby read the whole document twice. It was the statement he  
had not been asked to write. It was the statement that had to be  
written. And sent out when the time was right. Until he read it  
over, he had not realised how true those words were. Or could  
be. Bartlet had shown his feet of clay. So had Leo. They  
needed him and his words more than ever now; his own clay feet  
were going to help carry them through to where they needed to be.   
To where the country needed them to be. There was no one else  
to lead; Bartlet was the real thing, feet of clay, flaws and all.   
Decisively, he save the document, encrypted it, and emailed  
it to Leo, with a short note.  
"I'll be back tomorrow. I serve at the pleasure of the  
President."

END  


 

  


End file.
